Accidental Meeting
by ChelleLew
Summary: On her way home from a solitary dinner, Denise nearly witnesses a collision curtesy of a drunk driver. As she renders first-aid to the victim, she recognizes that the innocent man is none other than John Cena. As no-good-deed-goes-unpunished, Denise is also injured by the angry drunk driver. In the days to follow, will friendship develop or will Randy Orton swoop in to claim love?
1. The Accident

**This is a work of fiction. The places, incidents, and original characters are products of the writer's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Character names recognizable as WWE entities belong solely to the WWE.**

* * *

Denise couldn't help but roll her eyes behind her boss's back. The man thought he was so smart but when he came out and spoke to the office staff like that, he just proved how little he really knew. "We already know due dates, filing system upgrades, and all the other crap he spewed. He thinks that he gave us a pep-talk but what he really gave was a talking-down. Does he really get how de-moralizing he can be?" she thought. With a brief shake of her head, she returned her focus to her computer. The sooner she finished her assigned tasks, the better. Maybe she could watch one of those exciting filing system upgrade webcasts and earn some brownie points…or not.

The day finally ended and Denise waved goodbye to her cubical-mates. Time to join the daily grind on the ride home. "What kind of morons will I see today?" she wondered. "There's an idiot tailgating, nope make that two. Road-rager number one. Cell phone talker number one. Ya know, people, they make hands-free devices now! Use the damn things!" She smacked her steering wheel. "Great. Now I look like a road-rager. Morons." Creeping along with the traffic, Denise continued her tally. "Tail-gater number five. Cell-phoner number eight. Only road-rager number two, unless I count myself as appearing as a road-rager even though I wasn't. Should that count? Shall I debate myself to pass the time?" Tapping her fingers on the wheel, she merged over a lane. "Oh! There's a new one – plucking nostril hairs in the rear-view mirror. We can see inside your car, people! It is not a one-way mirror! And, by the way, EW!" She shuddered for effect. Merging over another lane, Denise sighed in relief as she saw her exit approaching. "Not too long now. The worst is over." Taking the exit ramp, she was out of the worst of the traffic and breezed home. "So glad that's over!"

Once home, her shoes were kicked haphazardly by the door as she headed to her bedroom to put on some more comfortable clothes. Gone were the straight skirt and blouse, now she was 'herself' in jeans, authentic 90's rock t-shirt, and sneakers. Back down in the kitchen, she grumbled to herself that she couldn't find anything to eat and maybe she should have stopped at the store on her way home. "I'll do that tomorrow." Picking up a notepad, she scribbled a quick grocery list as she took stock of her cabinets and fridge. "That's going to be one heck of a bill. Oh, well. Shoulda done it sooner. Slacker." Smiling at herself, Denise left the list on the counter and grabbed her keys. "I'm taking myself out to dinner. I deserve it."

* * *

Three hours later, Denise was stuffed. "That's how you end a day!" The waitress smiled at her. "I had no idea you had a band playing tonight. The ambiance was perfect. The food was delicious. And the service was _wonderful_. Thank you so much for such a delightful evening."

The waitress took the bill holder with Denise's payment and tip inside. "Thank you for being so nice and understanding about the wait. It has been a pleasure waiting on you. _Please come again._ " It was obvious that these were not just courteous words that she uttered to everyone, she actually meant them. Denise promised she would and headed for the door.

"It's a little later than I'd usually be eating and heading home, but it's worth it. And who cares about being tired tomorrow? It's not like it's a mentally stressful job…" Denise thought to herself. "I really should look for something else to do, something that I'd actually enjoy doing." With that on her mind, she headed for home.

Out of the corner of her eye, Denise saw a dark green pickup truck fly passed. "Idiots like that don't belong on the road. He's going to kill somebody." She watched the taillights disappear around the bend. Rounding the bend herself, she saw the same dark green pickup truck T-boned into a small maroon SUV. Parking her car on the shoulder of the road, Denise called 911 as she got out of her car. "I just witnessed the end of an accident at the intersection of… One vehicle T-boned the other in the driver's side quarter panel and door." As she circled the mangled vehicles, she continued to talk. "Both vehicles have single occupants. The pickup truck driver is moaning, obviously responsive to pain stimuli. The SUV driver who was T-boned is slumped forward and has obvious facial trauma. He appears to be unresponsive. Fire, EMS, and police will be necessary and will need to expedite forthwith." The dispatcher asked for her name. Denise gave her information before hanging up, tucking her phone in her back pocket and approaching the SUV. The driver's side window was badly cracked, allowing Denise to easily break it. The driver groaned and tried to turn his head towards the sound. "Try not to move." Denise said quietly. Reaching one hand into the car, she placed two fingers against the side of his neck and counted in her head. "You have a strong carotid pulse." The man groaned in response. "I'm going to check the one in your wrist, if that's okay. I can tell that your arm is pinned, but I can reach your wrist. Is it okay if I try touching you there?" When he seemed to moan an affirmative response, Denise put her same two fingers on his wrist. Thankful to feel a thumping pulse in his wrist, she spoke again. "You have a strong radial pulse in your wrist as well. That's good news." Denise moved so she was facing the man, as close to looking him in the face as she could get. "Sir, can you open your eyes? Don't move your head, just try to open your eyes." Letting her gaze rake over his face, Denise quickly took in his military-style crew cut, small cuts trickling blood on his scalp, a large forehead with cuts also oozing blood, a large and disjointed nose centered between two strong cheekbones, and two fluttering eyelids. "Hey, there. That's it. My name is Denise." The crystal blue eyes focused on her face. "Good job. Just keep your head still. With the impact, I'm concerned about injury to your neck, but need to check for a few more things before I hold on to your head, if you think you can hold still." He groaned. "Is that an 'I understand' or 'I hurt'? Wait, let's go to yes or no questions." She touched his wrist. "Can you feel this?" She moved her hand to his upper thigh. "How about when I touch here?" She touched his knee. "Here?" When she touched his shoulder, he grimaced. "No need to ask about that." Looking back into his pain-filled eyes, Denise bit back a gasp of her own. Hearing sirens approaching, she touched his hand once again. "You are doing so well. The rescue equipment is almost here. We're going to be able to get you out of there shortly. Keep holding on, John."

"How?" he groaned.

Denise heard the sound of crunching gravel and heavy breathing approaching. She hoped it was the rescue company arriving and not the scene becoming unsafe. Not wanting to panic her patient, she continued to speak softly, "Shhh. Time for that later. You fight all the time. This time your fight is internal, remain calm and still. Show your strength in your mental ability to overcome the desire to fight and flight." Denise squeezed his hand and turned to face whatever was behind her.

"F#cking a$shole!" Denise turned to face a staggering man drippling blood from a broken nose, swinging a crowbar wildly from side to side. "Look what you did you g*dd mn f#cking a$shole!"

"Woah, sir. I'm going to need you to take a step back." She watched the end of the crow bar as it waved around, first near the approaching man and then skimming close to her head. "Sir…SIR!" Not having a choice, feeling it was a 'him-or-me' situation, Denise gave her last warning, "SIR!" before kicking at his knees. One end of the pipe flew past her head and clattered against the SUV as the man stumbled backwards. Denise muttered. "Thank God," as a blur of turnout-gear yellow zipped behind the assailant and caught him as he fell.

"Did he get you?" the firefighter asked.

Denise shrugged, ignoring the burning sensation in her cheek. "No matter." She turned back towards the car, noticing a new dent in the top. "You okay, John? Still holding that head steady, right?"

"Mmm Hmm."

Denise looked at the firefighters headed their way. "I need a collar. Ya'll need extrication equipment, ASAP." Turning back to the car, she reached back inside. "Alright, John. I'm going to recheck your pulses. Let me know when you feel me touching you or if you feel pain."

"Touching…my…neck."

"You spoke, that's progress. Much better than grunting." Denise encouraged.

"RR…Wrist."

"Your pulses are strong." Denise finally had gloves to protect her hands. "Even though your arm is pinned around the elbow, you still have circulation. We aren't going to move your arm. The guys are going to remove the car. That's the best option for not causing more damage." She slid her gloved hand around his abdomen and pressed lightly on his ribs. He hissed. "Pain?"

"Not pain. Not, not pain."

"That's clear." Denise snorted. "On a scale of one to ten, a one being a stubbed toe and a ten being the worst injury you've ever had, where do your ribs rank?"

"Shoulder…five…ribs…six"

"That tells me that you are in pain, my man." Denise sighed. She continued her assessment. "The good news is that your injuries seem to be contained to this one area. Your legs don't seem to be pinned or overly injured. While you don't know the extent of the injury to your arm, you know that you can rehab that because you've done it before." John's eyes widened. "Exactly. So let me explain what is about to happen and then you can focus on recovery and rehab."

"Still in the car." he groaned.

Denise snorted again. "I like to set the bar high." She took a gray wool blanket from a fire fighter. "Alright, now I don't want you to read anything into this but I'm going to cover as much of you as I can with this blanket. That includes you head – especially your head. These guys are about to start cutting this car apart. It's going to get loud and there could be pieces of metal and glass that fall. The blanket will protect you from all of that."

"You?"

"I'm going to be right behind you. This is when I'm going to hold on to your head and neck. Oh, good. They finally got the neck collar." She used her fingers to measure the length of his neck. "Hm. I would have pegged you for having a longer neck. Only a 2. Not bad, not bad. Anyway, this is going to be uncomfortable but it will help keep your head and neck still and prevent any further injury, if there were to be any." She slid part behind him and fastened the front. "Uncomfortable? Good. That means it's on right."

As she started to back away, he grabbed her with his non-pinned hand. "Not leaving?""I promise, John. I'm not leaving. I'll be right behind you and you'll be able to feel my finger tips on your head. Count to 25. By then you'll feel me." Denise moved to open the rear door, pausing when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Dee, are you okay? Have you been checked out?"

Taking the second blanket, she answered quietly, "I'll get checked when he's out of the car. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Seriously?" Disbelief filled his voice. "With that gash, you are a priority patient and you know it."

"He's the priority. I'll get checked when he's free." Sitting in the seat, Denise unfolded her blanket and flipped it over her head. Shaking the covering over her patient, Denise began to talk to him in their own little cocoon. "I promised that I'd be here with you. Can you hear me? Can you feel my fingers?"

"Can I ask a question?" he responded.

"You can ask and I may answer. It depends on the question."

"Two questions."

"Now you are pushing it." Denise laughed. "Two whole questions. Okay, ask away. I'm not going anywhere."

"You call a friend? Don't want him coming here."

"Sure. Do you know his number? I think we've got about 3 minutes before they cut." She let go of his head. "You can't move." He didn't flinch as he gave her the phone number. She connected and waited for the other person to pick up. "Hi, I'm here with John. He's been in a bit of an accident but he's conscious and alert. His concern is that you not approach the accident scene right now. It's not exactly secure and we have not removed him from the car as of yet…Yes sir, I understand. If you are approaching the scene, if you would abide by his wishes and pull over to the side of the road, I will contact you when he has been extricated and we know which hospital he will be transported to. I will personally contact you. And you have my number to contact me if too much time passes without information." Once she disconnected the call, she leaned forward and muttered, "Tell me that I was not just arguing with Randy Orton. Tell me that I did not just piss off The Viper."

"Laughing hurts." he groaned. Denise chuckled. "You hurt?" he asked.

"What?"

"You hurt? The pipe? Your face?" He clarified his question.

"Oh, that. It's just a scratch. Not a big deal. Someone will look at me once we get you outa here."

"Promise?"

"Promise." A scream next to the car made him jump. "That's why I'm holding your head. The spreader is loud." She was shouting at the back of the seat. The door popped open and the sound stopped. "With the door open, they are going to cut it off. Next they will cut the roof posts and peel back the roof. Getting you out will be super easy."

"No pressure on arm. Better now." Another scream whined outside of the car. John's free hand rose to grasp her hand.

"We'll have you out real soon. Very, very soon." Denise squeezed his hand and tucked her head against the back of the seat.


	2. Morning After

**_Thank you for all of the love and support this new endeavor is receiving!_**

* * *

The pink glow of the sunrise filled the window of the hospital room eight hours later, rousing Denise from her sleep. "How are you feeling?" The bright and bubbly nurse was way to cheery for this early in the morning. "Do you need more pain meds? That surgery was a doozy and the anesthesia has to have worn off by now."

"Please."

"I'll go get you something." She bounced out of the room.

"She's…too…damn…bouncy." A deep voice grumbled from the other side of the curtain. Denise's eye widened. "Broke the rules. I can do that." She gently laid her head back on her pillow. "Randy found out…you were…admitted. Easier…this way."

"I'm confused." Denise admitted. "Easier how? And how are…"

The bouncy nurse returned with some pills and a syringe. "Doc says that you get the good stuff. With the bone in your face broken and the swelling plus the surgery, you are going to be in pain for a while. You're getting a cocktail; pills and IV meds." She added the liquid into Denise's IV and handed her the medication. "You'll feel better soon." With that promise, she left the room.

"Why didn't you get checked out? That shit hurt." John asked.

"I was the primary. I wasn't just leaving you. That would…" Denise's voice trailed off.

"Would what? Shit, she's asleep." John smacked his bed.

Randy came in right behind John's breakfast. A nurse raced in and pushed his tray away. "Sorry, you can't eat this, sir. You have surgery this morning on your arm and shoulder."

"I requested a second opinion and transfer to…"

"Your second opinion has flown up here. You must be a very important patient." The nurse turned on her heal and left.

Randy snatched John's tray. "Good timing. I get some food." As he munched, he talked. "Not much to find out in the middle of the night. Did you find out anything?"

"She's on a lot of painkillers…got knocked out quick."

"I'll wait. If there's a boyfriend, he should be here soon." Randy shrugged. "He won't be happy she's got a guy for a roommate. And John Cena at that." John gave Randy thumbs-up. "You really don't know anything about her or what she looks like. Why are you so interested?"

"Never said I was 'interested'. There's nothing wrong with being curious about my guardian angel." John said defensively.

Between bites, Randy snickered, "Me thinks he doff protess too mush."

"Too mush?" John repeated. "Don't talk with food in your mouth." He reached his long arm to the side and pulled the curtain back so he could see his roommate. "Look at her, Randy. Look at her face. She took a pipe to the face and stayed with me instead of getting herself treated. She didn't whine or moan. I griped more than she did and look at her. Look at what she's going through because of me." John laid his head against his pillow as he looked at Denise.

Randy set the food down. He walked around the room silently, just as one would expect a viper could move. He observed Denise, her features, her breathing, and the vitals on her machines. Then he pulled the curtain shut and sat beside John. "I am your friend, so you need to listen to me. Whatever is going on in that brain of yours needs to stop and stop now. That woman should not be subjected to your misplaced guilt. What she is going through is solely the responsibility of the jackoff who swung the pipe and T-boned your car, not you. You are not at-fault here. He was the one in the wrong. She obviously has some medical training and was willing to help you. That you can and should be thankful for. Maybe you build a friendship. Maybe you talk periodically. Maybe you see each other and say thank you after this is over. But if you start something out of guilt, this ends now. She will never see you or let you into her life." Randy laid his hand on John's arm. "You both have some serious mending to do. You can't see the other side of her face. She's tough, I'll give her that."

"It's bad?" John winced.

"Focus, man!" Randy ordered in a whisper. "Drop the guilt. If you can't let it go, I'll get her moved. She can't deal with you and her recovery."

"You can't move her."

"Watch me."

"F…"

"Say it and she's gone." Randy snarled. "You know I'm right. That's why you are so pissed." John glared silently.

A nurse entered the room, oblivious to the tension between the men. "I'm here to check Mr. Cena's vitals and prepare him for his operation. If your friend could please step out…"

"I'll slide next door to our other friend. She shouldn't be alone right now, either." Randy agreed. Nodding at John he rounded the curtain and pulled a chair next to Denise's bed. When she awoke an hour and a half later, he was still sitting there. "Hey, gorgeous. It's about time I saw those pretty eyes." She blinked at him a couple of times before closing her eyes as if trying to shut him out. "No, no, you have to wake up and face the day. At least acknowledge my presence. Don't hurt my feelings."

"Don't want to face an angry Viper," she whispered.

Randy chuckled and picked up her hand. "Darlin', I am far from angry with you. After everything you did for the blockhead, I am grateful for you and impressed with you. Angry? I'm angry that some putz hurt you, but not angry with you."

Denise confessed, "When I called from the accident and realized that John had me call you and tell you to stay away, I told him I'd better not have been arguing with Randy Orton or pissing of the Viper. He said he'd make sure you were okay." She picked at her sheet.

Squeezing her hand, Randy assured her again, "I promise you that you are just fine. Everything you did for John, staying with him and treating him the way you did, you will always be an angel in my book. Hearing him tell what he knew of your fight with the driver of the truck makes me respect you even more, especially when I see that injury on your face. You are one tough cookie. John's friends all feel like we owe you. He feels that way, too. That's why he wanted to keep you close by."

Denise started to shake her head, but it throbbed too much. "No, no. Just doin' what I do."

* * *

John returned to an overcrowded hospital room. "So she tells me John's had a 'bit of an accident' and that I should pull off to the side of the road and not come to the scene because it isn't safe." Randy was explaining.

"A BIT OF AN ACCIDENT?" one voice nearly shouted incredulously.

"That's how you described this?" someone else asked.

"Really? A bit of an accident?" a shock-laden voice questioned.

"That's what happened." John heard Randy mutter quietly.

"'Not safe' for Randy Orton?" someone else inquired.

Laughter rang through the room. "Obviously you didn't listen to her."

"Of course not. I didn't know who she was and John wasn't talking at that point. She told me she was speaking for him but I couldn't hear him, so I kept going." Randy agreed.

"Dumbass." a friend snarked.

"So you saw the wreck." The quiet comment hushed the room.

"It was a mangled heap of metal. I wondered how John was still alive. But as I walked up, they were removing him from the car and then they were lifting her from the backseat. I watched as two firemen carried her, one under her arms and one at her knees, to the ambulance they had just put John in, and heave her inside. She looked out-of-it. The doors were slammed and the ambulance took off."

Denise spoke. "I wondered what happened. I didn't remember getting out of the car."

"I saw this guy handcuffed on the ground but some medics were working on him, too. He had a problem with his knees. I assumed that he was responsible for this whole thing, so I didn't stay to ask questions. Following the ambulance was a priority."

"And that's how we all got here." Denise said. "Randy following and advocating for both of us." She smiled at the man standing nearby. "He can be…intense. Driven. Focused."

Randy smiled at her. "I know what needs to be done and make sure it's done right the first time. Otherwise…" Denise laughed. "Why separate the two of you? We want to keep an eye on you both and this way it's a one-stop-shop. We don't have to run between rooms. Just easier."

"Less chance of getting thrown out." someone corrected.

"That too, that too." Someone else laughed.

"Are you saying that ya'll get rowdy?" Denise asked.

John finally made his presence known by answering. "Not us. Never."


	3. Heart to Heart

Looking at the well-built man reclining on his stretcher caused a flutter in Denise's chest. "I knew he was good-looking but **_damn_**! Television doesn't do him justice." she thought. Aloud she said, "How ya feeling?"

Several men in the room helped their friend into his bed. Situating him carefully, they arranged his bedding and handed him a glass of water. "Been better. Been a lot worse, too." Setting his cup on the movable tray, he turned his head to face her. "Thanks to you, I'm on the road to recovery already." A blush colored her cheeks.

"I did what anyone would have done." she shrugged. "People look out for one another."

The men in the room snorted. "Darlin' we've traveled far and wide. Very few people are willing to help a stranger, sad to say."

"You are a rarity."

"One in a million."

"One in a BILLION."

"A real treasure."

Denise blushed at their praise. "This is why we are determined to look after you and find out more about you. Since you looked after our brother, you are now our sister." Randy lounged on the end of her bed comfortably. John glared at his good friend. Randy smirked in response. "No one will mess with our sister."

"I can understand that." she muttered. Louder she said, "I'm perfectly fine without ya'll hovering. I've been looking after myself for years, I am well-equipped to continue."

"But we aren't willing to let that happen." Randy insisted. "And since we are keeping John in line, it's no problem." Denise rolled her eyes and faced the wall.

"Can you idiots get out of here?" John griped.

"No can do, compadre. We're here until visiting hours are over." Randy said with a smirk.

"Oh, goodie." John griped.

"Can you all hush? Some of us want to sleep." Denise grumbled. Randy raised his eyebrows at the group.

John shrugged his shoulders and then grimaced. "How about ya'll let us have today with some peace and quiet. Come back with some real food for dinner tonight, none of this hospital crap." The guys nodded, muttering about how inedible hospital food could be. Once the room was empty, John spoke softly to his roommate. "Hey, there. You seemed to have a personality change. Something up?" No response from the back of her head. "I'm not used to silence from you. You're the one that kept me sane. Don't freeze me out now."

Denise wiped her eyes. She took a steadying breath and righted herself on her bed. With false-brightness she asked, "What would you like to talk about?"

Readjusting his bed, John cut to the chase. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, babe. We've been through hell together. As much as my friends want to be there for us and with us, they don't know what it was like. And don't you dare try that fake shit with me." Denise picked at the blanket on her lap instead of meeting his eyes. "Talk to me. You did yesterday. It's no different now."

"Oh, but it is." She corrected. "It's very different."

Despite the discomfort, John turned towards her. "How so?"

Folding her arms over her chest and huffing, Denise looked back at the wall. "I don't know how to explain it so you'll understand." A tear trickled out of her eye. She waved her hand in his direction. "You are…You. Yesterday you were…" She laid her head back on her pillow. "I saw the pick-up before the accident. Then I came up on the accident. I walked past him and went for your vehicle. You were the innocent and he was the ass. Well, there were medical reasons too, but anyway… I observed your injuries and features." She recalled for him. "You had a military-style crew cut that allowed me to see small cuts trickling blood on your scalp, a rather large forehead with cuts that were oozing blood, and a large disjointed nose that was somewhat centered between two strong cheekbones. Your eyelids began to flutter. They opened to show these beautiful crystal blue eyes. I've seen those eyes look at me from my television set. You have a scar on your neck and one on your arm. For someone who has an interest in first aid and in wrestling, these are things that stand out. I knew it was you. That didn't matter. Your injuries, that's what mattered. Not making a big deal over JOHN CENA, that mattered. Getting you the help you needed, that mattered." Denise sat quietly.

Minutes passed. Carefully John swung his legs off the bed so he could face Denise. "Look at me." She didn't move. " **Look at me.** " She still didn't move. " **Dammit!** Don't make me come over there! I said **Look at me**!" John nearly shouted. Denise flipped her head on her pillow to face her roommate. Her tear-streaked face tugged at his heartstrings. "So you've been a fan." He spoke calmly. "You've watched and loved or hated me. You're either a 'Let's go Cena' or a 'Cena sucks' kinda gal." Denise opened her mouth. John held up his hand. "No, don't tell me. If you are a 'Cena sucks' gal, you'll break my heart." He clenched his fist against his chest. "I don't know that I could take it." He winked at her. "You've confessed to watching wrestling. I have to confess that, after yesterday, you are my hero. I needed you and you were there. You kept me calm. You talked to me. You explained what was going on. Your touch, it kept me grounded when I would have freaked out. Knowing that you were there was calming, peaceful." He laughed and then groaned. "That still hurts. Anyway, knowing that you were here, in this room, that was calming as well. Yes, the big, tough wrestler wanted you nearby." Slowly he shifted from his bed to the edge of hers. He touched the back of his fingers to her uninjured cheek. "I wanted you nearby. I still do."

Denise swallowed hard. "I don't understand."

John shook his head. "Randy thinks I've got some kind of misplaced guilt over your injury. Maybe the Nightingale Syndrome or something. I don't think so."

Closing her eyes, she snorted. "Good. The Nightingale Syndrome is when a nurse or caregiver has sexual feelings for a patient. Nice to know you are not having that delusion."

John turned his hand to cup her cheek. "No delusions." he grumbled. "I could easily picture sex with you, but not here and not now. When we are both healed. When we are out of here and able to be loud…" Denise's eyes popped open wide. "Figured that'd catch your attention." He laid his thumb over her mouth. "I'm just being honest. You are attractive. Not impressed with my job. Cool under pressure. Pretty damn hot, actually. And I'd like to spend more time with you. Once we get out of here, I want to take you out. No Nightingale Syndrome. No misplaced guilt. Just a man finding a woman intriguing."

Denise spoke against his thumb. "Just a delusional man chasing after an available woman."

John smiled. "Yes! She's available!"

"Mr. Cena! You should be in bed!" The bouncy nurse had returned, wrapping her arm around his waist and helping him back to his bed.

Randy shadowed the nurse. Wiggling his eyebrows at Denise, he repeated John's last comment. "So, you're available? No boyfriend lurking in the hallway? Great news!" He sat in John's recently vacated position on the edge of her bed. "So, when you bust outa this joint, you wanta go to dinner with me? It's the least I can do after scaring you on the phone the way I did, going all Viper on you and all." John growled from the other side of the room.

The nurse, who was tucking the sheets tightly around him, chided "Now, now. No getting riled up. You need your rest." He looked at her and growled. She shook her finger at him. "If you keep it up, I'll give you something that will calm you down."

"Try it. Just try it."


	4. Accidental Meeting - Recovery

The lacerations and broken bone in Denise's face were painful but not life-threatening. Since she didn't have any sign of clots and didn't need therapy, she was discharged from the hospital two days after the accident.

Bags were sitting on the end of her bed. Per hospital policy, Denise was seated in a wheelchair. John reached for her hand. "Don't be a stranger. I want to hear from you. Come visit. Check in on me." He hated the needing-tone in his voice.

Denise nodded in response and squeezed his hand. "Take care of yourself, John. Get back on your feet soon." Randy picked up her bags and grabbed the handles of her chair. John glared at the other man. "See ya." Denise waved. Randy wheeled her away. Once the doors of the elevator sealed them together in solitude, Denise spoke quietly. "You love tormenting him, don't you?"

Randy exhaled over her head as he shrugged his shoulders. Denise watched his reflection in the elevator doors. "If he can't take the competition, he can walk away now."

Denise shook her head. "There isn't a competition, Randy. I'm not a competition or a prize to win. I'm a person. I'm a normal, regular woman who lives a normal, regular life. I am going to walk out that door and go back to my boring life and my boring job. The two of you will forget about me."

"None of us will forg…" Randy argued.

She raised one hand as she cut him off. "Just stop. Listen to me. Hear what I am saying. The competitive shit needs to stop. Be friends. Support him. Stop antagonizing him. I don't want to hear how that's the manly relationship you've had for years, either. Plant your ass beside him, work out with him. When he pushes you away, stay. Out-stubborn him. Be that lovable asshole you are known to be."

The doors opened. No words were spoken as Randy pushed her through the lobby. An ambulance sat at the hospital entrance. Denise cursed. "Those asses!" The doors opened and two men stepped out of the unit. "Just had to make a scene, huh?" She pushed herself out of the chair. "I don't need an ambulance."

One of the men nodded in agreement. "True, true. It's a mental thing." He reached towards Randy for her bags. "We tossed your ass in the unit and hauled you in here, not knowing what the f*ck was wrong with you. You were unresponsive with a bloody mess on your face." Squeezing her shoulder, he tossed her stuff in the back of the unit. "Ya look a helluva lot better now, Dee." Turning to fully face her, he explained, "All of us, you and both of us," he waved his finger between the driver and himself, "We all need to wipe out the shit of that night with a happy return. That's not news to you." Denise nodded. "Let me guess, you intend on riding up front."

"I've had enough of beds and cots. I'm up front and facing forward." She laughed as she spoke. Waving at Randy, she climbed in and they drove off.

* * *

Sweat glistened on the large forehead of the man peddling on the stationary bike. Round and around went his feet, making the peddles whirl. "Explain again how she left." he said to the man on the treadmill beside him.

Randy's feet pounded in a steady rhythm. His arms continued to pump. Sweat streamed down his flushed face. He closed his eyes in an attempt to remain calm. He reminded himself, "John wasn't there. He needs support. He's making progress. Thinking about Denise has kept him focused. Tell him AGAIN. Don't yell. Don't growl. Don't shout. You can do it. Hell, maybe I need to find her…Either to reward myself or to motivate his ass."

"Come on, Randy. I know I keep asking. Why'd she leave in an ambulance? I still don't get it. If she was fine, that doesn't make sense."

Panting, Randy shared the story that he had told at least twice a day since Denise had been discharged from the hospital. "Denise seems to be…a member of…an ambulance department. The two people…that came to pick…her up were members of…her department and they were also…at the accident scene. I saw them carry…her to the ambulance…and put her inside. Taking her home…was supposed to help all three…of them heal…to be cathartic. They saw their friend…unconscious…and broken. Now they came…to take her home…in the same vehicle…healthy and whole. It was…healing…for all…of them."

"I still don't like it." John muttered.

"Neither…did…I." Randy agreed. He reflected on the earlier conversation in the elevator, one that he had yet to share with his best friend. "I've definitely out-stubborned him, that's for sure. His cardio looks great, his balance is terrific, and his recovery is ahead of schedule. The only thing missing is that trademark John Cena smile. That's something I can't bring back." Randy pushed himself harder. "This isn't a competition and neither of us won. She walked away."

John pulled himself off the stationary bike to flop on a mat and pick up a medicine ball. His work-out routine required concentration and control. Randy spotted him, watching as he worked on his arm and elbow. "I don't need a babysitter."

Agreeing, Randy squatted near his head. "True. But if I walk away then a trainer will come over and they won't let you push yourself as far as I will. You know this. That's why you want me here. You know that I'll let you push yourself just a bit farther because I know you are capable of it. You are a machine. You and I are special. If I was in your shoes, I'd be pushing myself like you are. I'll let you go to the boundaries I'd set for me. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself."

John cut The Rock's eyebrow at Randy. "How kind. Very modest." He tossed the medicine ball at Randy.

"Be prepared. I might toss it back at you, and then where would you be?"

* * *

Sitting in her cubicle, Denise wondered if she was really happy to be back at work. "Can anyone **really** be happy to be back in such a mundane, dreary, droll job? This isn't a career. This isn't a life. It's truly monotony. Every day is exactly the same. I can predict when he's going to go to the bathroom, when she's going to sneeze, when she's going to cough, and when Blow-Hard is going to give us a 'pep-talk'. This sucks!" Checking off another assigned task, Denise nearly jumped when she heard a throat clear at the entrance to her cubicle.

Her boss was standing at her side with his arms crossed over his rather extensive belly. Clearing his throat again, his raspy voice croaked, "Sorry you missed so much work with your injury. Did you ever watch those webcasts?" Denise rolled her eyes at her computer screen. "It's not like you were really hurt or anything."

Squaring her shoulders as she faced the pudgy senior officer, she repeated, " **Not really hurt or anything…** " as she traced he scar on her face. "Nah, I wasn't **_really_** hurt." She stared up at the man. Waiting several seconds for his faux pas to sink in (not that it would), she continued. "It's really none of your business what the extent of my injuries were or are, just that the breakage of the bones in my _face_ prevented me from _staring at a computer screen_ for an extended amount of time while on medical leave, so no. No, I have not watched the webcasts. When my _doctor_ gave medical advice to _limit screen time_ , which was the reason I was medically prevented from working, yeah, I was prevented from watching webcasts." She rolled her shoulders as she turned back to her computer.

Seemingly put-off by her dressing-down, Denise's boss cleared his throat again. "You are back to work now and you haven't met your assigned duties. Those are part of your duties. See that they are completed before you leave."

Checking the time, Denise sputtered. "It's…"

"No overtime. You failed to meet your duties. Your problem, not mine."

* * *

Three very large men sat in the back booth of a restaurant, knowing that the other patrons couldn't hear their conversation over the sound of the live band. Randy Orton spoke to the other men regarding their quest; Daniel Bryan and Dolph Ziggler listened intently. "It's not much to go on, but if we split up…"

Dolph eyed Randy and shook his head. "We're doing this for John. I'm not looking for her for me." Randy stared down the curly-haired bleach-blond. "John needs to hear from her, see her. She said she would check in and she hasn't. It's wearing on him. We've all seen it. He needs a mental push from her." Daniel nodded in agreement.

The blond nodded as he said, "I know, but I also know you are interested in her."

Taking a drink, Randy admitted, "That's not hard to do. She's beautiful, intelligent, kind, and compassionate. She's also interested in John, or she was last time we saw her. He's interested in her, and we need him back to his old self. If he were healthy, I'd give him a run for his money. It's not right to…" He took another swallow of his drink. "I think they need each other. No need in messing with that. I want her for him. Nothing more. That's why I asked you for help instead of looking for her myself."

"Good point." Dolph nodded.

"What if she says she doesn't want to disrupt her normal life? Isn't that what she said before?" Daniel asked.

* * *

Looking at the clock, Denise shut down her computer. "It's almost 7. Screw this!" Stomping out the door and to her car, she fought back tears. "My face hurts. I need to eat so I can take my meds. My face hurts too much to eat because I haven't taken my meds. I don't want to cook. I hate my job. I hate my boss. I hate all of this!" She slammed the car door and cried as the vibrations of the car jarred her body. Stuffing the key into the ignition, she wiped her eyes and struggled to focus on guiding the automobile towards home. Fifteen minutes, two red-rimmed eyes, and one raging headache later, Denise stopped at a small restaurant to grab a take-out dinner to try and end her horrid day.

Walking into the restaurant, she was greeted by an over-worked waitress. "Oh, sweetie. You look like you've had a day like mine. Let me get you something to drink."

Denise waved her off. "I'd really like to just place a to-go order and wait in my car." She teared up as she spoke.

The waitress took a look at her face, but her arm around her shoulder and whispered, "I remember you. You are an absolute doll; one of my favorite customers. Sweetie, you tell me your order and let me get you a drink. I'll bring your food out to you." She handed Denise a napkin to wipe her eyes. Less than two minutes later, Denise was sitting in the quiet of her car with a large southern sweet tea waiting for her chicken Caesar salad. She laid her head against the headrest, knowing her dinner wouldn't be long.

* * *

"Let me see the picture of Denise again." Dolph wiggled his fingers across the table at Randy. Randy pulled out his phone and handed Dolph the device, showing the other man the photo he had taken of the woman they were searching for.


	5. FoundAnd Lost

"Let me see the picture of Denise again." Dolph wiggled his fingers across the table at Randy. As he spoke, his eyes remained focused on something outside the window. Randy pulled out his phone and handed Dolph the device, showing the other man the photo he had taken of the woman they were searching for. "MOVE!" Dolph stood on the booth bench, stepped across Daniel, and ran out of the restaurant. Waving Randy's phone at the taillights of a car, he yelled, "WAIT! WE NEED TO TALK TO YOU!" Slowing to a stop in the middle of the parking lot as the lights faded, Dolph turned to face a baffled and concerned waitress standing on the sidewalk. Stalking and stomping within feet of her, he growled, "Do you know that woman?" His finger pointed in the direction of the now-vanished car. "What do you know about her?"

Randy and Daniel pushed each other out of the way as they finally made their way out of the restaurant. "What the hell, man?" Daniel pulled Dolph away from the woman.

"I believe what my confused friend is trying to say is that we are here looking for Denise. She saved our friend's life a few months ago and we really owe her." He snatched his phone from Dolph to show the waitress some of the photos. "We aren't wackos, well… not too much. We mean her no harm. She's a sweetheart and we really do owe her, as you can see."

Tears welled in the waitress's eyes. "I remember that accident. I passed it on my way home. Didn't realize she was involved. She is a sweetheart, a real, genuine person. Not many like her." She nodded. "I wish I could help you." Her arms folded around her waist. "I know what she orders when she comes in here. Hadn't seen her for a while but now she's coming in almost every day or every other day." She shook her head sadly. "That poor dear…She looked like she was in so much pain tonight." All three men cursed quietly. "She hasn't been like that. Something was different today." The waitress looked at each man, meeting each of their eyes. "Her head hurt tonight, like the light hurt her eyes. She wasn't her normal, sweet self; the way she usually sees us and talks to us, asking about our day. She actually knows us." The waitress dipped her head. "Why didn't I ask her more questions? I don't even know her name."

Daniel put a gentle hand on the distraught waitress's shoulder. "Denise is one of a kind, that's for sure. You've described her to a T. And we are glad to know that she's got people like you looking out for her." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You notice the little things, like how she was feeling tonight. You brought her food out to her, not making her sit in the restaurant where it was noisy." The waitress nodded. "You said she comes in regularly. What time?"

With a sniffle, she answered, "Usually between 7:30 and 8, after our big dinner crowd has cleared out. But she doesn't come every day…"

"You've been very helpful." Daniel said kindly.

Randy added, "We have a starting place."

"And we've seen her." Dolph said.

"Thank you." Randy said. "We are going to find her. And we will help her…and our friend."

* * *

The fetal position did not help. A cool cloth on the back of her neck did not help. A warm pack didn't ease the pain, either. Lying in her pitch-black room, tears leaking down her cheeks, Denise prayed for an end to the pain searing through her head. _I can still hear that damn phone vibrating and it's in the kitchen._ _ **Just let me die!**_

* * *

At the opening of business the next day, a buff-looking man with a crew cut strode into the building where Denise worked. He walked with purpose, a look of determination on his face. "Good Morning. I am here to see Denise…and I need to see her now."

The receptionist looked up at him with a carefully-schooled blank face. "I cannot give out information on anyone who may or may not be employed by this corporation. Please leave the premises."

Under normal circumstances, he would have been happy that Denise worked in a secure facility. But today John was filled with frustration; he was thisclose to seeing her again, having finally had time free from Randy – who for some odd reason had been almost leach-like in the days since John had been released from the hospital – he'd been able to search the ambulance company and its members, use social media and all associated platforms to find her pictures, and from there find her name associated with this company. Yes, it took some ingenuity and creativity, but he was determined to find her. He couldn't find her home address, or he would have been at her house last night, so he waited for her work to open this morning. No receptionist, no matter how professional, was going to prevent him from seeing his angel again. Drawing in a deep breath, he leaned on the counter. "Ma'am, I realize that security is paramount, but I really need to see Denise. You see…"

"She no longer works here." John looked up at the man who had just rounded the corner. The man was the epitome of 'slime' with his short stocky build, spare-tire middle, oily slicked-back hair, and pin-point black eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Denise no longer works here. I fired her this morning." the man said smugly. "She failed to perform the necessary duties upon her return to work, so she is gone."

John looked at the receptionist and then at the man who was freely sharing information. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, "Is Denise here?"

Her supervisor shook his head. "She didn't even show up for work today. I told her she had to finish watching the webcasts before she left last night. Not only did she leave before she finished doing that, she's not here today. That's TWO" he held up two fingers, "reasons I can fire her."

Taking a HUGE breath, John turned to the receptionist. "I think I need to see your HR department. And I need your name as a witness." Without hesitation, the receptionist handed John a note with her name and name of the HR department head. Pointing him to the bank of elevators, she sat back with a look of disbelief on her face.

When John entered the office labeled Human Resources minutes later, another receptionist greeted him. "Sir, he is waiting for you inside."

 _I guess the one downstairs is pretty pissed, too._ Pushing open the door, John shook the hand of a man wearing a tailored suit. "I understand you are here on behalf of one of our employees. This is highly irregular…"

Cutting the man off, John cut to the chase. "Denise means a lot to me. She missed a significant amount of work due to injuries she sustained saving my life. While I was rehabbing, she returned home and I lost her address. It was as I came into the building today that I found out that her boss forced her to do a litany of things that went against medical advice with the concussion and head trauma she received. To compound that travesty, he apparently fired her for failing to complete these duties. While this is unforgivable, and I will be providing her with legal counsel, my main concern is the fact that she is not at work today. If his actions on the part of your company have caused her physical harm, you are liable. Let's hope the damage isn't irreversible or irreparable."

Tapping his chin, the other man picked up a file and perused a few pages. "She was to return on a limited basis. I see that she has been full-time and will look into why that has been. As to her current whereabouts, we cannot give out the addresses of employees." John's fisted hands bore his weight as he leaned across the man's desk. "The issue seems to be that her supervisor left a voicemail and e-mail informing her of her termination. She didn't show up for work today and did not call in sick. She's never done something like this before." Laying the open file on his desk, he sat in his chair. "I wish I could help you. This is information I am not free to share." Looking down, John saw the address in the file. Snatching the paper, he read it quickly. When the other man remained still, John dared to snap a picture with his phone before racing out the door. As he left the building, he waved at the receptionist who ordered him to take care of 'the nice one'.

* * *

The pounding wouldn't stop. Even with her room-darkening shades drawn, the sliver of light burned her eyes. Someone had pounded on the front door. It felt like they had been jack-hammering on her skull. Denise wasn't sure if she had gotten sick. She thought she smelled vomit, but she hurt so badly it may have been her imagination. Tears leaked from her eyes because it hurt to cry.

 _Maybe if I lay very still I will just die. Maybe God will just take me._

* * *

Checking the address one more time, John parked in front of a modest rancher on the fringes of a middle-class development not to off-ly far from the site of his accident. Locking his doors, he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked up to the door. _I hope she wants to see me. What if she decided she…What if she's hurt? What if…_ He knocked lightly on the door.

John wondered what to do next. _If she's not home, I can wait for her. That's not stalker-ish at all. But the HR guy said she's never not shown up for work. And that ass made her stare at a computer screen, which had to hurt her head. She could be laying on the floor inside…I'd look like a fool if I broke in and she was at the doctor's office._ While contemplating what to do, John heard ringing from inside the house. Her house line rang. Peeking in her windows (that didn't look weird at all) he could see her cell phone on the dining room table next to bags that appeared to be untouched take-out food.

John didn't think twice.


End file.
